A Warrior Queen
by LeeberSnowy
Summary: Jon Snow comes across the Queen alone, but she's not entirely vulnerable.
1. Chapter 1

The night had been long and full of digging. Even with all the men he'd brought, plus the thirty or so Dothraki tripping over their size within the cave walls, the going was slow and laborious. And because no Stark had ever gotten anything done by standing by watching, Jon labored with them until they'd struck into the mountain so far, a whole cavern opened up, like the womb of a woman ready to be filled. It was yet another amazing sight, black shining obsidian, winking in the torchlight and from what he could see, so much that they could make a whole arsenal from it and still not deplete the source. The sun was rising when Jon left the cave and took to a cliff path, to catch a breath of real air before sleeping at last, and this time with a sense of accomplishment.

It might have been later then he first supposed, or else the rest of the island had early risers, for up on the plains he found a game of sorts going on between two of the dragons and a crowd of the braver Dothraki screamers. He'd stuck to the path but found his pace slowing, watching the youths chase down several calves, directly competing with the beasts above them. The game, as far as he could tell, was to prevent the dragons hunting their prey too soon. Or maybe there was not enough food, and here was the means to feed oneself. _Madness,_ he shook his head. _What sort of folly does this little girl queen allow..._

A thunderous screech tore through the sky, and the larger dragon filled the air with sound and wind. Jon had to shield his eyes to catch the sharpest glint of silver from on top of the massive creatures back.

 _She can ride them,_ he realized dumbly. He'd known all along she could ride them, of course, it had been said in all the most recent ravens that he'd poured through before coming south, but it didn't mean much until he actually saw it. _So it's all true. She set free all the slaves from in those strange foreign cities who's names are hard to pronounce. She destroyed an entire fleet alone and still she rules those cities by proxy... She even burned a sacred temple, and yet the Dothraki follow her._ He was slightly overwhelmed by the thought of it, and wondered, not for the first time, what the rest of her army looked like. Could he do those things? Rule so many? _Not without dragons._ he decided.

She didn't stop the young riders, she drew her dragon low over them, as though herself on a horse, galloping with the horde. The other two dragons joined, swooping so close over Jons head he had to duck down, and when they called loudly for her, she may have looked his way. The smallest of all three, and yet easily the quickest darted down and stretched it's legs along the ground, slowing to a rumbled halt, joined raucously by his brother in a half-playful tackle. The impact shook the ground, powerfully. Safely on Drogons back, she circled around above.

"Viserion!"she called, through the wind and the green worm turned to her, and flicked it's riders whooped and parted as she cried out a word Jon didn't understand.

Just then the green dragon belched out a massive flame which scattered a few horses and riders, and set the terrified calf ablaze. He had to shield his face from the heat, which he felt even where he stood. The screamers filled the plains with their cries, as the green dragon tossed the now mangled carcass high enough in the sky that the dark one swooped down to catch it in his jowls. Deftly the little queen clung tight, and turned to face her blood-riders. They roared to her their respect, riding as close as they dared to the dragons, and brandishing curved blades high above their heads. Though it was with a scowl that he watched her laugh, he did note that her face was as carefree as he'd be likely to see it ever. _A queen unlike any I've ever met._ he admitted to himself, _A warrior queen._

She steered the beast straight up into the sky then, leaving the two younger beasts, and the treacherous riders to their sport and Jon to turn back on his way. From then he found himself adrift in thought, following the path doggedly while his mind was somewhere up in the sky above. His thoughts rambled and so did his feet, until thirty minutes led to forty, and still the path had not brought him to the castle gate, like he'd thought it would. Instead he found himself at water level, beneath the highest ramparts of Dragonstone with the stone path stretching on before him, winding here and there. He paused, entirely lost, with only the crashing waves beside him and fatigue gnawing at his eyes.

That was when the sound of a footfall on stone made him look up.

He saw the queen before she did him. Her silver head was down, a crown of braids wrapped around it, and she was busy pulling off a pair of riding gloves. He noted that her cheeks were flushed, and her hair rather wild from the flight, subtle changes from her usual presentation. _It suits her well._ he decided. When she finally saw him, she contained her wariness and folded the gloves into her hands.

"My lord." she nodding once by way of a curtsy.

 _Not a bow._ "Your grace." he answered as he should, and then nodded as she had.

She squinted at him for several seconds. "You've been one of the rarer sights on Dragonstone, I'd almost forgotten you were here."

Perhaps it was easy for her to do, she was waging wars, defending lands, feeding armies. Why would she spare a corner of her mind for the fool hardy king in the north? On the other hand, he'd not once forgotten she was there. Or what she looked like. Though he tried to control it, he couldn't stop his stare wandering over her, thankfully so far without her noticing. All he said though, was. "I've been busy below ground, your grace."

"Oh yes." she replied, her vibrant gaze jumped over the water of the bay. "The northern cause."

He followed her example, and looked at the waves, with annoyance. When he wasn't in the presence of the little queen, the cause felt real, the need for the dragon-glass urgent. But here now in the Southern air, he felt as though he were telling ghost stories. A child quavering about dead things. Looking like a boy in front of her would be worse than almost anything he could think of. Even though he was certain she was close to him by years, she'd already proved herself to the world many times over. _And a boy who knows nothing can't make a dragon listen to him._

"I was on my way back to the castle now. Will you walk with me, my lord?" she asked evenly, and when he glanced her way she looked as though she wasn't entirely thrilled about extending the invitation.

But he was lost, and not about to admit it. He agreed to the walk readily, and followed her back up the path a slight way, despite the friction. He'd missed a small dip where-in Daenerys pushed a hidden stone into the wall. It opened and revealed a secret path whose walls were deep cut into the stone. The blue sky was above and he could still hear birds, but so close in width was the path that he could have touched both sides without stretching.

Jon Snow was taken back by the sudden intimacy of the situation. The sounds of the sea grew quieter behind them, just as wind tunneled, and the smell of some exotic, spicy flower on her hair or her skin suddenly drifted back to him. He filled the tracks she left behind, and found that she walked with the confidence of a leader. And yet she was so tiny... _So small a person,_ he watched her white curls bounce against the back of her dark dress, _to have done so much._

He watched the rest of her as well, from her boots up to her braids. It wasn't a fight for the eyes to do so, but then Daenerys so rarely looked his way that he found himself wondering if Igritte had been exaggerating her own attraction to him _No. If I were here alone with Igritte, she would have pushed me back, demanding I take her against the wall by now._ Jon had to banish those bittersweet thoughts and turn his mind to the present day, and the fact that he was suddenly hidden and alone with a Targaryan. No foreign queens-guard surrounded her now, no Tyrion, no great roiling beasts. He could easily reach out and touch her.

 _A wiser man might even kill her._

The thought of ending one part of this war did have it's draws. _Her ribs_... he could have counted them through her dress. _Shoving a blade through one of them would be too easy_. And he still had many hidden blades. _Would Ned Stark kill her? Would Robb?_ But there were more than a few things to stop him. He'd never escape, such were her defenses all around, he and Ser Davos could never hope to subdue the wrath of her supporters on the island, Tyrion seemed so taken with the queen he would bring the wrath of armies onto Jon's people in the North. And then of course Jon never wanted to hold a dead girl in his arms ever again.

"That game your riders are playing." he broke the silence first, "It's savage isn't it?"

"Do you truly think so?" she answered without turning around.

"And it's dangerous." he added.

"Hmm," she considered, "Jon Snow, are you leading forty thousand men, five allied forces, and three dragons?"

He worked his jaw, "No."

"I've got twenty thousand Dothraki riders thirsty for blood, and three restless children. Every one of them wants something and will take it without a thought. They need distractions. And the best thing I could come up with was what you saw on the cliffs." As she spoke Jon couldn't help but feel foolish, and then she added, "It's not exactly a walk along the Wall keeping armies under command, you know."

Under his breath he answered. "Says a person who's never been to the wall."

"They are anxious." there was an edge to her voice. "I feel the same. Until the lands are conquered, no one on Dragonstone feels settled."

It hadn't occurred to him that she might feel stuck on the island as well. A long of things she said hadn't occurred to him. Just as he felt removed from the army of the dead around her, he also felt drawn into the fight for the throne, even if he didn't want to. He found himself eager for any little bits of her story, and asked all around Dragonstone about her. The tales he heard were never disappointing. They might have been tales about great warrior beauties that he loved to listen to as a child. She was almost like a living breathing heroine if, of course, the tales were true.

"Well, you've not wasted time feeling at home here." he remarked, watching her well-bronzed fingers trail over the stone wall beside her.

"And yet I feel a stranger." she answered wistfully.

"You've more supporters then some who've tried for the iron throne."

She scoffed. "That doesn't say much."

He frowned to himself. _No it doesn't_.

"You think I don't know what you all are saying about me, and have been saying for years."

"I haven't even-" he began.

"A foreign whore." she spun around to face him, and he stopped with a skid on the rocks, "A child with only a name to support her. A little princess from across the sea. Daughter of the Mad-King, Usurper. The Stormborn who knows nothing. Worst of all, I think, is not a woman of Westeros. "

Jon blinked at her. _It's I that knows nothing._ With her eyes on his face, even in anger, he was transfixed. He could see the purple in them, of course it was mixed about with blues, yellows and green, but without warning, something deep in his gut began to stir.

"I won't be scared away." when she spoke again she'd eased the fire of her words, but they were still firm. "I will conquer these lands like I have the rest."

Jon nodded and squinted at her, as if that would diminish her beauty somehow. "Maybe you should be focused on saving them."

The dragon queen lifted her chin slightly, studying his hair, his cloak, his breast plait. Jon felt the need to stand to his full height all of sudden, and his heart beat picked up. _Kill the boy, Jon Snow..._ But his stare kept dropping to her lips, betraying him. "Maybe I will." she raised her eyebrow, with the softest hint of amusement. "You're terribly brave, Jon Snow, has anyone told you?"

She turned from him and resumed the path, leaving him standing perfectly still, remembering the first time he heard a girl utter those words to him. _Ygritte, what would you tell me now... That I was brave, stupid, but brave..._

The path came to an abrupt end at a high castle wall, and a large oak door, carved with the dragons of her house. Before using it however she leaned along a lower part of the wall and pulled from a small nook, a change of footwear. An informal little spot for her, queen of all she saw, to be not so formal. The thought made him smile, that is until she pulled her dress up over her knees to unlace her leather riding boots.

Above her soft stockings he could see the smallest bit of her thighs. He swallowed, and blinked his eyes, but couldn't look away. He immediately recalled what the men at the wall had always said about girls in the South. _There's nothing under their skirts, Jon, save their socks._ The thought stirred something in his gut and deep in his groin. Maybe the dragon queen had done it to try and seduce him, like the red-priestess had. He knew if _Daenerys_ opened her dress to him he undoubtedly would give in at once. But with this in mind, he cast his gaze down the long path, out across the sea, anywhere to stop himself gaping any longer.

"I believe I might know what you are thinking, my lord." she remarked, laces snapping under her fingers.

"No," Jon allowed a smile. "I don't think you do."

"You've been considering killing me." she said squarely. "Tell me you haven't."

He paused. "You'd know I was lying if I didn't admit the thought had crossed my mind." he answered her, and watched his own foot worry the ground below. "But, I'd be a fool if I tried."

"That helps me trust you, I'll admit." her voice was flat.

When he looked back at her legs, this time he noticed the tip of a knifes sheath, tied around her upper thigh, and peeking just out from her skirt. "You seem to be able to protect yourself."

She held his gaze for just a few seconds, then she flicked the dress and coat back down and rose to her feet again. "I've learned from the past."

Jon could hardly recover. A new image of her baring a weapon, yet all legs and eyes was setting fires inside of him that he thought had long since gone out. Fires he had to stop. Daenerys was more forbidden, it seemed, than even Igritte had been in the days when vows were the only things stopping him. Had I known that someone was out there, someone like this...would I have taken the vows then? He opened the heavy oak door for her, and when the queen passed he could smell her, flowery and sweet. His eyes shut, and it was everything he could do not to reach out and stop her. The seven know that no vow would keep me from her, if she even hinted at it.

But Jon bowed and left her, as soon as it was clear that he was within the castle grounds again. Every moment spent with the queen, made him less and less strong, less and less likely to remain unbowed. Maybe she could have seduced him, and maybe that would have worked. But she didn't, and his grudging respect for her was growing with each passing day.


	2. Chapter 2

_Daenerys Targeryan_ , Jon ran her name through his mind. He ran her face through his mind, her body, without her dresses and coats on. _If the queen knew half my thoughts about her she would order me locked away._ He was crossing the stone path from the caves to the castle, staring up at the dragons circling above. It was all Jon could do not to stare at her, in those times they were within the same room as each other. He had done his best to avoid the secret path that she seemed to favor, even though the temptation to meet her alone again was so great he took to walking the cliffs more than necessary. _I've so much more important things to think about, why are they not occupying my mind._

When he was a boy, he used to trail after certain pretty girls, and solemnly stand near them, like a shadow. He was a bastard alone, and unwanted. Now he was a King there were ladies following him, smiling at him in Winterfell, whispering about him in taverns, even asking about him with Ser Davos. The relentlessness of Igrittes pursuing him beyond the wall had opened his eyes more. Women wanted _him_. And while it was ground he wasn't sure of, it was a welcome change to the sad boyhood he'd had. But _Daenerys_ was different. Neither acting superior to him, nor particularly interested in him.

And then of course, she was his enemy, and his would-be captor. If he didn't _mean_ to stay. She was a formidable opponent, and no queen or highborn women he'd met yet was like her. King Stannises wife Selyse knew how to act like a queen at the wall, posing about on thrones and making demands, and Queen Cersei was as cold and calculating as any royal could be, but Dany- he'd taken to calling her that in his mind, was more than a queen by those definitions. She was a commander, of course, but she was even more, it was like she was a _mother_. He'd learned much by watching her daily routine, much about what it meant to love and care for a vast number of people. But in this observing, Jon felt reduced to that boy in the shadows once more.

He'd mined all the days he'd been on the island, so far. His hands were sprouting new callouses, and his back hurt with every dawn but he was accomplishing, and creating. Every chunk of obsidian loosed from the mountain was another to plunge through the rotted flesh of a white walker. And every walk back to Dragonstone was one spent with aching muscles, and yet a growing sense of relief. If he was stuck here, away from his family and people, at least he would return with a great arms force. But he also felt some guilt thinking about the north, and how so often lately it was second or third in his thoughts.

Early in the week he'd taken to breaking the morning with a look at the sea but soon discovered the young queen chose this time as well to visit and feed her dragons. If he stepped into the shadows, neither her nor her adviser Missandei could see him, and she was so entrancing to watch that he found himself never missing it. She would walk down the stone staircase, with it's carved dragons, a little shining thing, and from out of the sky there would explode the three monsters, racing each other to be close to her. Dany would laugh at their exploits, and Jon would smile, and she wouldn't know because he was just a bastard hiding, and watching something he could never hope to deserve.

Jon tried to shake those thoughts, but on the third morning, she suddenly glanced his way and their locked. He felt caught, and turned at once back to the cave. Shame raked at him, and he stayed safe inside the mine all day. At dinner he was quiet, and tried not to look at her, even when she was speaking. But in vain, because she was merry that night and he couldn't not watch her be merry.

"A sight, is she not," Varys had stolen up behind him during one of her laughs, and interrupted Jon's staring. "She means everything to us."

"Lord Varys," Jon nodded to him, "I've been meaning to ask you about my father, it seems you are usually near at hand during any major deception."

Varys regarded him sharply, and sat down beside Jon readily. "Your father might have been a noble man, but he meant to hand the Iron throne to Stannis Baratheon. You've met Stannis Baratheon... do you believe he would have made a good King?"

Jon noticed that Ser Davos had not heard. Lord Varys had a way of speak very smoothly. "No." he answered.

Varys glanced towards his queen, a vision laughing with her small court. "The realm needs a ruler who will truly rule. I've watched this girl go from a helpless little thing to the powerful woman you see before you, I've heard stories about her that would keep _you_ up at night. _Impossible_ things, Your Grace. Those titles you hear about her were not easily won." Varys shifted his cloak and pecked at a platter of cheeses. "I heard once she ate a stallions heart whole. Blood everywhere."

Jon altered his position slightly, so as to face her a bit more. "You tell me this because..."

"Because I don't think you understand whom it is you are trying to negotiate with," Varys ate very delicately, "I believe if you knew her better, and if you are anything like the man your father was, you would be throwing your support behind Daenerys, wholeheartedly."

Jon stared forward. _Of course he tells me these things, just as Ser Davos would for me..._

"She will change the world," Varys said seriously, "Take it from the shit it is to something we've never known. If you were to _help_ her-"

"She has the blood of dragons," Jon broke in, "What can a Northern bastard do to help her."

"A northern bastard can do nothing," Varys smiled, and rose. "But a King- well, she had never yet met her equal, _King_ Jon."

Jon did not go to watch her on the beach the next morning. Instead he made a further discovery. A patch of darker dragonglass turned out to be a small opening into yet cave but this he found to be far different. There were symbols, long forgotten, carved _everywhere_. A place with old magic in it, he could feel it. Like the cave he'd been in with Igritte, the first time she'd taken off all her furs. The memory saddened him, but the cave itself and the crackling in the air, was remarkable. That night the Dragon Queen was not at dinner, and the talk was loud and bawdy. Jon retired early, and could not stop thinking about the inner cave, or about Igritte...

The fifth morning, after a fitful sleep about caves and naked girls Jon went to the mine earlier than anyone. He lit a torch and went back to the small cave, and studied it's walls, every symbol he could find. _Old Nan would have stories,_ he thought with a wistful smile, _And each of us would listen with wide eyes. The children of the forest, she would say..._ Jon stopped. _These are symbols of the Children of the forest..._ If one started at the cave entrance it was as if a story unfolded, leading to a sight that shocked him. _Children and the first men._ He swung the torch further still, beyond a long strip of molten obsidian, and gasped. On that very wall, the Night King stared back at him. Some ancient artist had seen fit to convey his blue, lifeless gaze. Jon swallowed harshly, and left the little cave at once.

"You've been all but a stranger, Your Grace." Ser Davos commented on Jons way out of the mine.

"I've found something Davos, could you see the cave is cleared. I need to bring the Queen inside." he said as he passed.

He knew by the sun that Dany would be nearly at the shore. By the time he'd reached the stairs she was descending, speaking closely with Missandei. A whole day, and many fantasy's about Igritte had divided the last time he'd seen her, and he'd hoped it would all help him reign in his thoughts. But they made a pretty pair, the queen and her adviser, and when he called to her, they shared a look between them. A look that caused something strangely vain inside of him to respond, as though the two beauties had a secret opinion of him.

Daenerys tallest Dothraki, the one who eyed Jon the most, moved to follow but she spoke to him, and he remained behind as she and her scribe came to Jon. _She trusts me,_ Jon nodded at the man, and fought a smile away. Then he lead her and her adviser across the sand to the cave. Ser Davos bowed and supplied a torch. How he cleared the cave so quickly was a wonder, but Jon didn't stop to say so, he only saw one end to this experiment.

"I wanted you to see it before we start hacking it to bits," he said, to the queen, recalling his own first look at the twinkling glass. He strode deeper into the cave and lit it up with fire. "This is it. More than we'll ever need."

He turned, and caught his breath. The more beautiful sight by far, over the long length of crystal black lights, twinkling like stars, was her gazing at them. Air stirring her hair, and mere feet between them, Jon fought a wave of nerves. If he could but convince her that the army of the dead was real, she _might_ actually return to the north with him. She might actually _need_ him.

"There is something else that I want to show you, Your Grace." he said quickly, and beckoned her closer.

"How.. How did you know about this?" she asked him, still taken with the sight. "That this was all... here."

"Come." he said, only, and he gave her the torch.

"Wait," he heard Ser Davos say to Missandei, and the Queen glanced back. If she was afraid of foul play she didn't let it stop her for long. She nodded once, met Jon's eyes and followed to where he pointed her. She even walked ahead of him, most bravely, into the darkness beyond the tunnel.

He could hear her breathing change, skip almost, and become shallow. She felt the same as he did, in this place, that much was obvious. He touched the symbols respectfully and it was almost as if she didn't want to speak. So he did.

"The Children of the forest made these."

"When?" she asked at once.

He took in the entire cave again. "A very long time ago."

"They were right here. Standing where we're standing. " Danys voice was filled with awe. Jon never realized she would be so interested in them, like he had always been, and he found his eyes traveling over her yet again. Over all of her as she spoke. "Before there were Starks, or Targeryans or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men."

"No," he stopped her, and continued on to the pictures that had shocked him so. "They were here together, the Children and the first men."

"Doing what?" she gasped, "Fighting each other?"

Jon's eyes passed over her face. _She still believes us to be fighting?_ He took a hold of her wrist and for a moment she looked afraid of him, as though he could hurt her. But when she saw the reason he'd brought her to the secret little cave, her face suddenly changed.

"They fought together, against a common enemy," he told her, "Despite their differences, despite their suspicions. Together." She turned her eyes on him, "We have to do the same, if we're going to survive. Because the enemy is real. He's always been real."

He noticed her seize up slightly and then she turned back to the scratching on the wall. "And you say you can't defeat them without my armies and my dragons?"

"No," he confessed, "I don't think I can."

Again she looked his way, shrewdly and yet with this air of understanding. She began to fill the space between them and Jon immediately felt his body respond, as though it knew something he did not. By firelight the little queen was transformed into something far more sensual and tangible, and she drew so much closer to him. Then, when he could hardly contain himself she said, "I will fight for you," she said, "I will fight for the north."

Jon nearly sighed out loud, and felt that any moment he would either lift the queen into the air, or pull her to the ground.

But then she said, "When you bend the knee."

He almost smiled. _Jon, you fool. She does not see you as her equal._ "My people, won't accept a Southern ruler. Not after what they've suffered,"

The queen was intent though, and so soft spoken, he felt almost intoxicated by it. "They will if their King does." _Seven help me,_ Jon swallowed roughly, _she is drawing closer still._ "They chose you to lead them, they chose you to protect them. Isn't their survival more important than your pride?"

As though he were being slapped in the face, his own words to Mance Raider came back at him, here at this place in his life. "Isn't their survival more important than your throne?" Jon asked her, but felt quite shamed that he was fighting his own arguments.

The Queen lowered the torch slightly, and seeing it wearied her, Jon took it at once. "Loyalty is all I demand. That I will protect my kingdoms, as much as I can, is what I promise. But I must always guard myself against betrayal." The girl turned from him and studied the walls again, "Do you think things were so complicated back then? Do you think there were houses and kings and queens?"

Jon turned and traced a symbol with his finger, absently. "I think they were more like Wildlings."

"Wildlings?" she said without looking at him.

"Freefolk, from north of the wall."

"North?" Daenerys scoffed, "Of the wall? I didn't think anything was north of the wall, except..." Her eyes darted to the scratching and then back to him.

"There are many lands north of the wall, and many people. They don't have Kings like we do, but they survive, and they are free. They won't bend the knee for anyone."

"Sounds like _you_ spent time with them." she remarked, wryly.

"Your Grace!" Missandei called from outside. "Lord Tyrion is here with news."

Daenerys held on watching Jon for a few seconds, and then she passed him, but before entering the tunnel she said, "I want to hear more about your adventures beyond the wall, Jon Snow." And in her dominant way, like the Queen she was, she added, "Follow with me now, your mining can wait."


	3. Chapter 3

"You will stay!"

Jon felt a full ripple of annoyance go through him and glanced back at Ser Davos at this demand. She certainly wasn't afraid to act the queen, or perhaps she was merely used to getting what she wanted. He followed her, despite feeling uncomfortable about it.

"All my allies are gone." she tramped on ahead of them all. She was so angry, and so fast Jon had to take long strides to keep up. "They've been taken from me... while I've been _sitting_ here on this island."

"You still have the largest armies-" Tyrion tried.

"Who won't be able to eat because Cersei's taken all the food from the Reach."

"Call Greyworm and the Unsullied back, you still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland." Tyrion urged, "Commit to the blockade of Kings Landing. We have a plan, it's still the right plan-"  
"The right plan?" she whirled around. Jon, lost in pondering what _he_ might do, were he vying for the Iron throne, halted, and backed up a few paces. She was formidably filled with rage, but Tyrion held his ground bravely, even when she continued. "Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands, _and_ the Reach."

"If I have underestimated our enemies-"

"Our enemies?" she broke in again, her eyes flashing and through gritted teeth she said, "Your family you mean. Maybe you don't want to hurt them after all."

Jon glanced at her advisers in discomfort, wondering if they too would feel her wrath but he saw only concern in their faces. Across the water her dragons called to her, and when she turned to them, they all did as well. And then the little queen spoke again.

"Enough with the clever plans. I have three large dragons. I'm going to fly them to the Red Keep." she said, decidedly.

Jon felt such a surge of admiration for her, followed by a harrowing feeling that she might not return, all while Tyrion said, "We discussed this."

"My enemies," she said pointedly, "are in the Red Keep. What sort of a queen am I if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight them?"

"A smart one." Tyrion answered, though Jon hardly heard it.

Daenerys tossed her head, and looked out again, across the waters. _No wonder they call her Stormborn,_ Jon was thinking to himself when he noticed her looking directly at him. She looked at him with something different in her eyes. The same thing that he saw in the cave just before this, _when she called me King._ And then, "What do you think I should do?"

Jon wavered at the question, and glanced at her other options before saying, "I would never presume to-"  
"I'm at war," she said, and again she drew closer to him. "I'm losing." Looks were being passed between her advisers but still she approached him. "What do you think I should do?"

There were tiny flickers of vulnerability in her eyes, and at once he wondered if she acted the tempest to hide the fear. Either way she was coming to him, to _him..._ for guidance, and he would give her the best he could think of. After a brief moment of thought he turned out to face the sea.

"I never thought Dragons would exist again, no one did. The people who follow you know that you made something impossible happen. Maybe it helps them believe that you can make other impossible things happen. Build a world that is better than the shit one they've always known." He saw her swallow softly, and he knew his words were hitting something, so he pushed on, "But if you use them, to burn castles and melt cities, you're not different. You're just more of the same."

Daenerys face said she already knew he was right, but she turned away from him as well, in exasperation. Tyrion threw him a sympathetic look, and approached the queen again, "You could use them for more _valuable_ foes however. There was news of the loot train approaching Kings Landing, we could cut them off and prevent the queen from taking the wealth of High Garden."

"It might be time to let the rest of Westeros know your dragons are not just rumors." Varys spoke at last.

The dragons cried, eager for their meal. Jon wanted to say more but Davos stopped him, noting that the rest of them were watching the queen with concern. The girl was lost in thought, walking out towards the surf, alone. Her hands were pressed to the sides of her head, and he could see her shoulders heaving rapidly. He had a sudden strange desire to go to her, and hold her close. She looked as though she might need it. _The saddest queen,_ he thought, _and so alone._

She did not take long to compose herself, before she turned and marched back. "Privy council meeting." she said, "Jon Snow, will you attend?"

Jon nearly choked, "I...uh."

"My Queen." Tyrion, "Perhaps we should keep a healthy dista-"

"Jon Snow is a King." Daenerys said quickly. "I want him in the council meeting." She walked off briskly and Jon glanced at Ser Davos, who looked just as surprised as he did.

On the way to the castle the Queen was first, leading with fire in her step. "And tell me Lord Tyrion," she was saying, "Were you in my position, with my arsenal, and my armies, would you be sitting here, doing nothing?"

"Your Grace, we've talked extensively about what would happen to your claim if you should die and that there is nothing worth the risk."

"All of my allies!" she cried, stopping for a moment alone the narrow sea path, "I am alone."

Tyrion stepped closer to her, "Not alone. Not ever again."

Jon wondered for a moment to himself, why such a girl, with her power and her desirable... position was still unattached as such. Why no man had tried to claim her or win her, and why none were there now. He considered that perhaps no one from Westeros came to the island because it might have meant death, or imprisonment. No one, that is, but his own foolish self.

On she stormed ahead, falling quiet in her thoughts, and they all trailing after. Jon felt as though he was finally above "rebel" now to her, but what that meant exactly, he wasn't sure. And what was going through her head was not at all clear, but he noticed she cut a striking figure walking with purpose, as though there was already a plan formulating. It made Jon's heartbeat quicken, to think that he would be present in the planning of great wars across the kingdoms. Another dream he'd had as a boy, an impossible one it seemed, about to come true. Tyrion stole a glance back at him, raised his eyebrows and allowed a tight smile.


End file.
